you'll be perfect just like me
by and lay me to sleep
Summary: A collection of twenty dabbles - featuring The Joker and Harley Quinn.
1. whore

_"it is you that i adore  
you will always be my whore."_  
- smashing pumpkins, ava adore.

* * *

They walked down the hall, like a couple of teenagers. Their ages seeming to revert whenever they got close to one another. He bumps the petite little blonde, making her sunder off kilter when his own lanky frame comes crashing against her. He's always careful not to harm the blonde doctor.

Only she is allowed to escort him back to his cell of steel and stone. The guards have stopped watching the two and it drives another patient madder then he already is. Piercing blue drill into the part and he hates her. He's interested in the man though. That haunting face pushed against the bars as Harleen swipes her keycard to open the cell. He notes the heart broken look on her face as she feeds the man into the cell.

"_Har-leey_." He coos her, as much as one man with jagged sinks on his once handsome visage could.

She musters a brave smile, she knows that he doesn't want to see her upset. He brings his head closer to the bars, beckoning her to him and she follows his orders. But she can't bring herself to make contact and Joker quickly understands why.

Those blue eyes he covets are now unlocked from his brown ones and they're dodging glances from his neighbor. Crane, that nosey bastard. He allows Harley to leave from his personal space, a dark stare now in Crane's direction. He watches the exchange of words between the doctor and the former.

"Doctor Quinzel.", he's searching hoping to get her attention and he has it ---

"Mr. Crane." She hits him were it hurts, she reminds him that his world is gone now, no longer a doctor. He sneers at her as she walks away, and now Joker is snickering, giddy.

"She's a whore."

Joker stops, scars still giving him a grin, but he doesn't see the humor in this. He seems angry, he comes closer to Crane's bars. "_Ex-plain_ yourself Ichabod."

"You don't know, she's nothing but a whore. Her grades weren't given to her because she's book smart, it was because she excelled on her back. She has your case and my office because she was willing to spread those legs for Arkham."

Joker's very presence seems to bring him closer to the bars, its a battle of the super villains. Joker could be considered superior in almost every way. Faster, stronger and maybe even smarter then the Scarecrow.

He proves he's faster and grabs Crane's frail arm, threading it though the bars - he proves he's stronger as the limb is threatening to separate it from its socket.

"Johnny, you think I don't know that?"

He gives him a look and Crane knows now that indeed the Joker might be smarter. "I know she's my doctor because she says she'll spread those sweet little thighs for Arkham."

Crane can smell Joker now, he smells like gunpowder, rot and filth but mixed into that is Dr. Quinzel. He smells her perfume, her shampoo, but most of all he smells her sex on Joker. He knows now, that those "sessions" are nothing but foreplay.

"She might be a whore." Joker grins, a line of yellow teeth coming forth as his scars warp and make him appear older then he really is. "**But she's my whore**."

* * *

a/n; originally I was going to do this challenge - twenty drabbles. Well here's the thing, um, there was a word limit and I hate word limits. I'm wordy, so I plan on stealing the prompt table and still doing the drabbles.


	2. burn

_i'm driven by distraction. so part of the plan.  
when something is broken and you try to fix it  
trying to repair it anyway you can.  
i'm diving off the deep end.  
you become my best friend._  
- x&y, coldplay

* * *

She stands, different then he's ever seen her. He's seen Quinn in a number of different outfits. From a doctor to a clown girl he's seen them all, he knows those little idiocies of Quinn. But he's never seen her like this.

Her blonde hair, fake as it might be is slicked back, dangerously tight in a low tail. He hates to admit it, but he likes her pigtails. She doesn't seem so menacing that way. Now she's making his blood run cold.

Over the years he's gotten to know her body as if he was her lover. Not the difference maker in the fights between him and her beau. He feels himself missing the impish little sprite that he's grown to ignore.

She stands before him in a zoot suit. Tailored to fit her body, her colors still there. Black and blood red. Her original colors. He sees all her curves, breasts, stomach, hips, legs. She uses her body to distract those whose she's fighting and Batman feels himself falling into that trap. But for a different reason. It isn't like he hasn't seen her before, in a private moment.

He's seen tapes of the two of them together; The Joker and Harley Quinn. They decided to give Arkham's cameras a show once before, he can still see the leather gloves touching over that little clown girl's skin. And that's when he winces, visible as Quinn's voice rings through, the two of them in a face off on roof tops.

"You killed him." Her voice harsh, he can't hear that Jersey girl accent, he can't hear the jovial and giddy tone in her voice. She's a woman scorned, and hell have no fiery.

"Harley...it was an accident." He's reasoning with her, he has too. She has Wayne Tower rigged to the gills in explosives. She learned, she learned so much because of him. And he now sees her as just as deadly as the Joker.

"It wasn't an accident, he was in your custody when a rouge cop shot him. Point blank."

Batman is used to this, this isn't the first time he's seen someone try to avenge their lost loves. But unlike Harvey, Harley is broken, her heart is shattered. Harvey loved Rachel, but could anyone love like Harley loved Joker?

She stands leaning heavy against her mallet. God only knows what she's done to herself since his death. He knows she's tired. What she did to the cop who shot him, and his family, It scared the hardest cops. Batman included.

Harley brought hell down on that happy home. She started with the officer's children, murdering them in cold blood. Harley still had a soul and never went after kids, but this time she did.

She sent what where the Joker's men, now hers to rape and pillage the wife. Harley had the man to herself, she tortured him for hours before he died of his injuries.

And yet he feels sorry for Harley Quinn. Its obvious she's hurting.

Batman feels like he should embrace her, like they should mourn the death of Joker together. He's only felt this kind of sorrow once before, from Harvey when Rachel died.

"Harleen, do you really think he'd want this city to burn? One shot and its done?" She thinks no one but her has mourned him. She's wrong, no one but Harley and Batman. Batman feels guilt and mourns him.

"You shouldn't be talking..." Harley isn't even looking at him now. She's looking into the sky, the same sky where Joker wrapped his arms around her and told her she'd be there when the Batman died.

She produced the trigger from her breast pocket. It had to be one of the bombs Joker planted, Batman panicked. "Harley don't!" his voice isn't gravel filled as she walks towards him.

"One request Batsy. Give the grieving widow a kiss." Her arms around his shoulders he can smell the gunpowder and gasoline. He can smell Joker on her, he swears he sees him as Harley pushes the button. He braces himself, but this isn't right nothing is exploding in the background.

Its on him, its on her. She's murdering him and killing herself. He burns and so does she. "Quinn why?"

"Because, you're the last person. You and I, then my revenge is complete. And in a way...I take Gotham out too. No more Dark Knight to save them."

She looks so sad when she speaks those words and he looks just as sad. He knows he can't save her. He loses another one. But he has to save himself, for Gotham. He shoves her and she goes tumbling. He's safe and she's dead. And he hates himself for that.

Some men just want to watch the world burn, and some like Batman, are forced.

* * *

a/n; prompt - burn. obviously the joker isn't dead for all the stories, and neither is harley. it was just a random drabble and thought process that wouldn't and couldn't go away.  
lets all give a big hand for finally letting me upload this too. jerks.


	3. breathe

_"i'll stay here with my secrets.  
until it fades to dust."_

_-hybrid, "choke"_

_

* * *

  
_

She whistles sharply as she strolls back to her office, another successful session with the Joker. Her mannerisms are starting to mimmick his, he whistles classic rock. Today it was Paint It Black, she knew that one. And he smiled at her when she named it.

Her heart had been fluttering since then. Even when she reaches her office and notices the door is slightly ajar. Thinking nothing of it Harley slips inside her office and that's when it happens.

Her body has been forced against the hard oak, hand around her throat she makes a small peep, she shouldn't have done that because he's clamping down on her delicate little throat, cutting off her air. She can't breathe, and she's panicking.

"...Jo...ker?" She chokes, this isn't his kind of game. She kicks at the figure whose choking her. As she struggles he comes closer, frame against hers. Its not her Pudding. He's stringier then Joker, he's also shorter then him. Whatever composure Harley had is gone and she's fighting as hard as she can.

"Dr. Quinzel if you don't calm down I'm going to have to sedate you. You don't want that do you?" Lights flickering on she saw him and she was growling when she saw him. Crane. Harley again started fighting, kicking at whatever she could find. She kicked him in the legs and tried for the groin, but the lack of oxygen was too much.

" I must admit Dr. Quinzel, I hate what you've done to the place. Red and Black? The colors of anarchy. Are you an anarchist Harleen?"

She stared at him, even if her lips were turning blue. Now she looked at him like he was talking a different language. Harleen, she wasn't Harleen, she was Harley.

"Tell me what you're afraid of . . .Harley." Crane was laughing now, skeletal in body he was scaring her, at this moment she was afraid of him. But she didn't speak, she knew he was talking to her now, he was talking to Harley. He knew that Joker called her Harley.

She refuses to answer him though, she can't breathe, she feels herself starting to pass out, she feels it start to go black. Is he going to choke her to death? She can't tell, she can't let it happen. She tries to remain calm, and it seems like some kind of reprieve, Crane releases her throat and she pants, she breathes.

It was a mistake, as she breathed in the fear toxin is brought into her lungs, and she's once again not breathing. She's overtaken with fear, her visions haunting her. Its goes dark again, and she can't breathe.

----

"Where is _Harley..._" He croaks, he doesn't like the doctor sitting in front of him. Female, it was almost like someone thought that if they threw a pair of tits in front of him he'd respond like he does for Harley.

"Dr. Quinzel is on medical leave."

The stale doctor doesn't even flinch when she tells Joker that Harley is gone. Medical leave, that term is used for something like...he gets it now. There's been rumors that a doctor had been attacked. Of course he'd been blamed for it in the rec room gossip, but for once, he's actually innocent. He had figured that he'd squeeze the details out of his little _Harlequin_. But there was no Harley.

Just then the realization hits, and he flies off the handle. "Who was it?" He growls, voice oozing with venom in that low glutteral tone. "Who attacked her?"

He knows he's right, because the stale doctor isn't so stale anymore, she's staring at her, scared. She's faced with a conflict of interest, and she's trying to hide it. Joker knows her, yes, he knows her. She's Leland, Joan Leland. Harley's friend, she got Harley her job here. She's refusing to talk, if she's Harley's friend then she'd tell him. And now he knows, it was Crane.

Leland sits there, sits where Harley sits. But she's not staring at him sweetly, no adoring look, no pretty blue eyes. She's not Harley and he doesn't like that. His mind is bogged now, deep in making new plans.

Pushing himself up from the chair he stands, towering over her like he does over almost everyone. "We're done here. I only talk to my doctor."

"Patient John Doe!"

Leland starts and now he growls, he hates that name. He's Joker, Harley would know that. _"Liiiisten here Joanie."_ He quirks a brow, he knows who she is and that scares her. "I want my doctor and if she's not here next week, then there will another doctor on medical leave. Got it?"

---

The threat against Leland hadn't gone unnoticed, but Joker did little to care, the look in his eyes showed he was a rouge beast. A wild animal. Harley is his ticket out of here, a golden ticket. And he'll be sure to keep her safe and sound until she's ready to let the clown out of the box.

Sitting in his cell he hears the almost giddy laughter of an insane man. Of Crane. The mess streaks of blonde and brown hide Joker's face, the green is almost gone completely. The curled geasy mess hides him. It hides the menacing and planning. It also hides the intense stare he's giving Crane.

Crane, he seems content to make Harley's life a living hell. Which he doesn't like, not because he has any real feelings for the blonde ditz but because she's Joker's ticket out of here. He needs to protect her, he needs her to not be victim to Crane's fear toxin. He needs her here. He's growling again, feral, he's a lone wolf again.

_"Craanne."_ He whines, almost like he's in pain, he wants the doctors attention. A part of him is still amazed that they haven't moved him. Of course why would they? The Joker doesn't care about anything. His doctor getting attacked shouldn't have frazzled him as much has it had.

The frail former doctor stands walking closer to him, he grins, he knows his little adventure has upset Joker. But he can't figure out why, could this killer actually have feelings for that little blonde hussy?

_"Craaaane._ My doctor is on medical leave, wanna be my doctor for tonight?" He licks at bare lips that used to be red with lipstick, sometimes his, sometimes Harley's. He knows that Crane wouldn't miss a chance to analyze the Joker. Who wouldn't? He's aware of his celebrity status.

"Why don't you ask me what I'm afraid of?"

"Oh, you'd like the same treatment your little Harlequin got? Well if you insist."

Joker feels a pang of something against his gut, and his face pushes against the bars, a wave of emotion as Crane stands. Joker not looking at him as he speaks, almost as if he's ashamed, but he's drawing him in.

"Tell me Joker what are you afraid of?" Crane asks and Joker knows the dust is coming, taking in a breath of clean air, he huffs as Crane blows, forcing it to enter in Crane's lungs. Joker saids nothing as Scarecrow screams, Joker's just stares at him, a demented clown how haunting Crane's dreams.

---

Next week Joker is lead into the room that he and Harley often share, where he tells her stories that make her giggle and laugh. He knows that Harley isn't going to be here, not today. It'll be another doctor, maybe even Arkham self. The fat bastard.

Handcuff the Guards don't say much to him, don't bate him like they normally do. In their minds it was some kind of sick justice Joker took on Crane, Arkham's employees think of themselves as family. Or maybe they're just scared because they didn't protect Harley, they didn't catch that Crane was missing. "Be good Clown.", is the only thing they say to him, as they open the door and shove him forward.

There is already someone in the room and this person does little to care about the violence they show him. Joker stares, muddy brown eyes staring trying to find the face of the person he'll soon be sitting across from. "Who are you?" He asks, nasally tone worst then normal, he puffs up trying to scare the new doctor away.

"Hi Puddin'."

That's when he sees her, big baby blue eyes staring up at him, puppy dogish. Harley. She looks lifeless, drained, weak, he knows she shouldn't be here. He can feel that same pang in his gut, the same one that showed itself as he attacked Scarecrow. He doesn't say anything, he simply sits down on the chair across from her. Blonde hair looks limp and not as tuggable as it once was, she looks fragile, for the first time he understands just how breakable she is physically.

That tongue lashes against his lips, nervous habit, and that's what he is nervous. Afraid that his plan is gonna fall to pieces at any moment. This kind of thing is the stuff that gets you transferred to Metropolis, since he blew up Gotham General. He breathes in deeply trying to find the familiar smell he's grown to love. Cotton Candy, what kind of woman wears Cotton Candy body lotion? He asked one night, another late night session, his Harlequin did, his little doll. But he doesn't smell it, she smells sterile, he breathes in a hospital smell.

"So what did you see?" He asks her, it was a mistake because Harley flinches visibly but doesn't move her sight from him. She was depersate to look at him. She doesn't speak she just stares at him. And he knows not to say anything, if anyone is going to damage Harley's mind, he'll be him. Not Scarecrow.

---

It'd been months since the pair had broken out from Arkham, now it was a return visit. Harley dressed in the same stuffy doctors outfit they broke out in, but her face painted, her face is now the true face. Joker completing her transformation.

Arkham was now his Kingdom, having broken out patients and forcing the doctors to go into hiding. He sits in the same room they always sat in, in his normal spot. Harley on the otherside of him, no longer a doctor but his right hand in all this chaos.

He's done everything to her at this point. Warped and twisted her little mind, she worshipped him now, and he was quite fond of his portable hostage, his little errand girl, his doll.

"It was you." She speaks, she normally only speaks to him in private, and this is as private as they're going to get.

He stares at her, sure it was him for a lot of things but it was random outbrust, and he can't piece it together.

"When Scarecrow attacked me. You asked me what I saw." She pauses biting down on her ebon lip. "It wasn't what I saw, but what I didn't see, I didn't see you. I lost you."

Again he feels that pang of something in his stomach, in his chest. It makes him want to grab his knife and stab it out of himself. He knows how, what it is. Standing he breathes her in, cotton candy filling his nostroils as he speaks. "_Harley ---- Harley --- Harleey_. You know I'll be the last thing you ever see. Isn't that right Doll?"

He means it, if he has his way, it'll be his hand that does in his Harlequin. Its meant as a threat, and even he's amazed when Harley starts smiling.


	4. dirty

_"and she's been trying with limited success  
to get him to turn out the lights and dance  
cause like any girl all she really wants  
that fickle little bitch romance"_

- "Shores of California", The Dresden Dolls

* * *

She loves him, there's no doubt about that, she doesn't care about scars or questionable mental status. But there is occuasically something that bothers her so much that she can't stand it. He has a habit of stinking. Not his normal smell, she loves his normal smell of dynamite and gasoline, she finds herself breathing that in deep at night. But sometimes he simply forgets to watch the gore from him. Blood dries on his clothes, hair and hands. He smells like sweat, he smells like rot sometimes.

Normally she just tolerates it, normally the mood will strike and he freezes himself in water she can't stand, or he'll travel home in the rain and smell like spring time. But there has been none of this time. Gotham's skies have been down right pleasant.

Tonight is one of those nights he wants to be domestic, he's cuddled up against her in the bed made of lavished silks and cotton. His arms around her abdomen and holding her so tight that sometimes she struggles to breathe. Tonight she'd be struggling anyways regardless, he's so filthy tonight. She shifts trying to find a face full of her pillow, she take in her shampoo instead of him. She hates herself for this and whimpers.

She learns he's being attentive tonight -- her whimpers make him stir and he captures her chin in his head, he kisses her lips. She doesn't care about smell right now, she pushes her head up forcing her lips to push up against his, hard and eager. That's when inspiration strikes, "Bath." She mumbles through rough kisses.

He grumbles as she tries to escape, one more rough pull and she ends up under him, his weight blanketing her, she doesn't care that he is big enough to crush her. She like when he wants her, she likes when he holds her and doesn't want her to leave his side. But she's too lost in this little game.

His lips are dragging down her neck and she shudders with pleasure, he's cheating, he knows how to rev up that little Harley. She grabs at his hands as he fumbles with the buttons of her shirt. Well it's his, one of his dress shirts that she grabbed when she stripped out of leather and latex. Her grip his firm, "Puddin'", she moans grinning when he sucks at her collarbone.

He growls feral, hands fighting with hers. "Whaaat Pooh?" his breath hot on her neck, he wants her. And when it comes to Joker, when he wants something from her, he gets it. Her groans and grunts of displeasure and escape attempts aren't what he's used too.

"Lemme freshen up. . .I'm sticky." She smiles at him innocently, those blue eyes are winning the war, he loves her eyes and he can't ever understand why. She bats her lashes and he rolls off of her. Lips smacking as she escapes from him. He's still grumbling as she bounces off, flashes of the curve of her rear do nothing but make him desire her more.

The hide out is a fun house, that had been converted into a makeshift home. Harley and Joker have the master suite so to speak, well the henchmen stay away from them. No one is allowed in Joker's lair but Harley. The so called master suite has a bathroom, it holds all the obvious things, but her favorite part of the bathroom is a large claw footed tub. Big enough for two Harley imagines, not that they've ever tried, but tonight she was going to try. Reaching over she turns the water to cold, freezing cold, just like Mistah J likes it. She'll freeze but she does little to care. She adds the various bath salts and oils that make her smell good enough to be eatten alive.

Carefully her fingers push buttons from their holes. She notes the shirt to make sure it doesn't go with his purple zoot suit. It was dark when they got home last; tired Harley stripped out of her harlequin suit and found whatever shirt she happened to step on to sleep in. But the purple suit, she never wears anything that goes with that suit, it's her favorite and she doesn't want to be responsible for ruining it.

No this is one of his black dress shirts, silken in material she tends to wear this one the most, it smells like her more then him now. Dropping it down her shoulders her breasts hang against her chest, exposed now, next comes her stomach, the shirt has done nothing to hold or keep anything in place, it's just a cover. She's careful to hang it up on a random knife that has been shoved through the dry wall. It makes a great clothes hanger. To the vanity and she grabs a hair clip, pulling her hair from either side, the pigtails fades and she forces her hair up into the clip. She's careful, she can't get it wet or the platinum will fade.

She takes her time, study herself in the mirror, she studies her roots, the roots are nowhere to be seen. She hates her natural color. She studies her nose and feels it sometimes too big for her face, mostly when her war paint is off, and she looks up.

She'd wiped away her own face earlier, she wasn't like Joker in the sense that she just allowed hers to fade, her face was always fresh and perfect, he liked it that way. Those lips black and perfect until he flaws them, her eyes raccoon-ed but sobbing different then his.

The bath water is almost too cold for Harley, she shifts in it as her body adjusts. It's a waiting game now, Joker'll get impatient and come in after her. Throwing the damp wash cloth over her face she starts to relax.

Harley doesn't know how much time as gone by, but she feels a hand on her shoulder. Joker of course, who else would be there. Pressure, he's trying to dunk her under the water. Her rear slips on the wet and slick stone of the tub and she scoots down her head going under water. She feels his hand leave, the a few seconds after her head is submerged.

She sits up gasping for air, her hair now soaked and the clip is pretty much useless at this point. She blinks forcing the water out from her eyes and she sees him smiling at her. Chelsea Grin making his smile even more sinister. "_You were taking too long Harl, thought I'd **assist** you._"

_"By drownin'me?!"_ She squeaks, its a fair question when you remember who she was talking too. Coughing and sputtering she grabs the waist of his pants, either of the pair can tell if she did this because she was trying to keep herself a float in her panic. Or she was tired of this game, and just wanted it over. No matter what, the reason doesn't matter, a flash of black, green, white and red comes crashing into the tub with her. How he didn't crack his skull on the rim of the tub is an unknown concept to Harley. The water splashes and splatters on the tiles of their bathroom floor.

Torn between trying to run out of the tub and to the bedroom or stay there, she freezes. Her teeth chattering from the freezing cold water. She can't move, she doesn't want to move when he's submerged, she starts to panic a bit when he doesn't come up right away. She leans against the back of the tub, afraid to make a move. Now more then ever, since he's now facing her from across the tub, looking rather dishoveled. He starts laughing at her, obviously amused by all of this.

"Harley." He saids, he doesn't seem to be bothered by the temperature of the water or the fact that he'd been pulled in and the kohl around his eyes is now smearing. He cooes at her, swoons her with just one word, the way her name rolls off his tongue beckons her. She causes ripples in the now calm waters.

Snatched, his soaking wet and freezing clown girl is back in his clutches, he wastes very little time returning to the position in the bedroom. Floating the weightless Harlequin, his hand, warm in the cold water clasps against the back of her neck, force won and her lips find his. Kissing is her favorite, he's not gentle though, he's rough, he reminds her who she belongs too when he pushes that slimy muscle into her mouth. She can do nothing but moan against him.

Her moans and crying gasps force a reaction from Joker, that for him wasn't normal until he met her, that part of him had been locked away for so long. Hips push up, Harley stops, frozen with lust. She's completely bare, unlike Joker, her nakedness hidden only by the discoloration of the water, thanks to the bath salts and oil. He grips her bottom with the free hand she's bare under his finger tips, she shivers and shudders as she feels his hips arch up into her. No longer timid Harley moans hands finding the buttons to his shirt, exposing him she grins into his lips. She pulls away from his leaving him kissing the air, and then the side of her as she looks down to see what she had done.

Slim lanky frame now exposed to her. Wiry bristles of hair cover his chest, he's not large or a muscle man by any means, but it doesn't matter to Harley. Chest now receives her doting attention, torso covered in scraps, bruises and random scars. She kisses them, she doesn't care about his scars, any of them. Fingertips drag down his chest, lower to his stomach. Forcing him to jump, gasp, growl and swallow hard. His hips almost violently jolt up into Harley. Material meets flesh but she's still effected, she moans, loudly. Leaning forward, she whispers into his ear. "You're wearing too many clothes Puddin'"

"Yeaaah." He saids almost annoyed. He stares at his Harlequin daring her to fix it. Which she does, she's a master at undressing him well he doesn't notice.

Fingers finding the various kinds of restraints that keep him from her. The water made him weightless too, because with just a small shift of his hips Harley is able to free him from the now water logged slacks. she's quick to remove them and replace them with herself. Straddling him, she can feel the brief brushes of connect --- a bulbed tip pushing between her legs. She moans, he snickers and pushes up even farer, he threatens to penetrate her. Not a threat so much, but a promise.

Hands quickly move up from the water and move to either side of his face, her fingernails red and black, business colors. "You're going to make us both dirty." Soaking wet hands are doing what she aims for, removing the decaying parts of his war paint, she begins to see, whatever it is he is. He's beautiful to her, regardless, in the war paint he's like a beast, he's monstrous and she's the only one who dares to walk at his side. She also is the one who applies the paint, her greatest and favorite duty.

But now as she touches his face and the paint starts to fade she's beginning to see him without the make up and she sees her savior. He is her savior, he saved her from the world she hates. The smeared red, starts to fade and she sees his lips, lips first, not the cheeks. No scars, expect the one on his lip. To her its the only one that seems to be hidden with his war paint. Without it, it looks worst. She leans forward to kiss him. Her hands still on his face, water forcing the paint to bleed down her finger tips. She babies his bottom lip, pulling on it softly before letting her pouted features nurse on the scar on his bottom lip, she's gentle. He kisses her back, stroking at the slippery flesh, she trusts he gets the hint. She's going to be showering him attention and worship.

She's used to the scars, she's not scared of them, she's not put off by them. She knows things about them that no one else is supposed to know about them. She knows the obvious things because of her past life, she knows that it was at home triage. She knows because of that, that he's strong, he's always been that way. He doesn't respond to pain the way a normal person would. He stitched himself up, that much she knows is true. She knows he didn't take care of the scars, and one side was badly infected. She wonders about how sick he got because of that infection. She kisses the clean flesh of his cheeks, and even the tip of his nose.

He's going to tolerate this, and she smiles at him as fingers start to wipe away at the black around his eyes. Always the hardest part. She has to scrub kind of hard to remove the kohl, he's still petting the fleshy parts of her body with his fingers. He's still trying to distract her with the occasional jolt of his hips against hers. She smiles when he does that, she's stubborn she won't stop. Not when she's exploring him again. There is one thing about Joker that no one but Harley probably notices. His eyes. In the make up, they're almost black, she sometimes has to strain to see his pupils. But without it, she can see them, deep in color but she can see the hues of brown, amber, she doesn't know it's a color she can't describe. There he is, her savior, the one who brought her into this world, that she kills to remain in.

She has been given the chance to bathe him in attention and finally she gives in to him. She can't take any more, she knows she has much more to do, his hair is threatening to dread and mat if she doesn't take a brush to it soon. But she can't take the touches and the brushes of him between her legs. She loses the war, allowing her knees to give in she drops down on him.

She expects to feel him, she expect to almost crush a rod of flesh between the two of them before he can angle himself just right in her. But there's done of that. Hands grabbing at either side of her thighs, he stops her from falling on him. "Come here Pooh." He beckons and she leans in, waiting unsure of whats coming next, she can feel his lips behind her ear, breath hot as he speaks. "We've got a looott more work to do before I make us dirty..."

She squeals, laughs and makes her little happy noises. Fingers starting to thread through his hair to see how much work she had to do. But she couldn't help but notice spider digits in her only hair, washing her?


	5. bound

_"fuck me like you hate me" - seether._

* * *

There was something about Harleen Quinzel that simply perplexed the Batman, she was so eager to throw it all away for Joker. She took up the name Harley Quinn, because that freak called her that. She abandoned everything for him and never once cared about what the repercussions.

And for him, Harley Quinn was handcuffed in the Tumbler. And for Joker, Batman's skull was throbbing. He'd taken a mallet to the skull, it was a dull ache he was left with until the day he died probably.

Never once did he think such a little girl could pack a big punch. He was down because of it long enough to allow Joker to escape, but Harley however wasn't so lucky. He was able to cuff her, he was able to get her into his car.

She was growling and snarling like some kind of wild beast. She even tried to bite at his face when he buckled her in. "You know Batsy ya shouldn't be jealous of what Joker and I have." She smirked and he ignored her, but she saw him start to faulter. "You know, just because he got the girl. Just like Harvey did." She couldn't help but beam when she saw his jaw clench and his fists tighten on the wheel. That was still a sore subject for the Bat, and Harley knew it, Joker had told her the stories.

"I know it must be hard Bats, but there's no need to punish me and Mistah J. But I understand how you'd envy da Joker, he's got me. And I'd do anything for him. Well that girl...what was her name? Rachel, wouldn't even give ya the time of day. Much less do half the stuff I do."

He stared at her well those painted lips of hers curved into a smug smirk, "Dumb bitch ya ask me --- I mean the Dark Knight against the White Knight? Ya always pick the Dark one."

She was talking, she was just talking too much and that throbbing pain in his head was making his thought process hazy. He was going to shut her up, oh yes. Neither of them completely understood why he took a turn to the docks instead of bring her back to Gordon to deal with. Harley stared at him, judging him, she stared at him, like he wasn't a threat to her, and it was true he wasn't, but he'd still make her pay, make Joker pay without spilling any blood.

The car opened up and Batman stumbled out, his head was still killing him as he reached the other side, with Harley on it. Grasping her by her cuffed wrists, he hauled her up and over his shoulder. He could have subdued her, knocked her out with one of those pressure points he'd learned about but he wanted her wake for this. He wanted her to know every single ounce of fear, he wanted her to know this wasn't a game.

The bright white of the room blinded her when the lights where turned on, but he, he was used to it. She began to panic, this wasn't Arkham, and this wasn't Gordon's fortress, this place wasn't familiar. It wasn't the Batcave that he would have liked, but it did it's job. It did even more of it's job when he hoisted her from over his shoulder and then hooked her cuffed wrists on overhead beam. Forcing the barely five foot clown girl to dangle by her wrists. Her hands grasping the beam to try and relief some pressure from her wrists.

Somehow this was going too well, oh it was too perfect for him. He growled at Harley "Open your eyes Quinn." She did what she was told, even if it hurt her. She stared at him, and he could see that she still had emotions, unlike Joker did. She would have looked beautiful under all that thick theatre make up. Her eyes looked just like Joker's did, messy, chaotic, given an appearance that she'd been crying, she kicked at him. She was trying to be brave, trying to show that she wasn't scared of the Bat. But everyone could tell she should be. Grabbing at her leg he trapped it between his hip and arm, squeezing he'd make her cry out in pain.

"You think it's funny, funny that the Joker hurts people? You help him. Why?" He was growling and bending that knee, threatening to break it, Batman wasn't above hurting people for information.

"Because!" She gasped, crying out in pain, it forced her voice to hiccup. "I love him, more then anythin' in da world."

"You love that beast? That Monster? He doesn't care about you Quinn." He moved closer to her, his torso against her waist his cowl covered head coming into whisper in her ear. Inhaling the sugar sweet smell of her hair, "Because if he did, he'd never have allowed you to be taken by me."

"No..." She snarled, growled, spat at him, "I did this to myself, ya think that I'd ever allow to get Joker taken in again?"

She was loyal, too loyal, she was nothing but a target for Joker, and Batman knew it. Something dark was coming over him, the effects of a concussion. The same effects that made him bring her here. Fight it Batman, but he couldn't, he didn't want to. She's whimpering now, because of his words or his hand looking for the zipper of that stupid outfit she's wearing.

Some of kind of corset that does nothing but tease. She wanders about fighting the forces of good with her breasts almost hanging out.

Pulling at the zipper, he frees her. He can't feel the soft skin just yet. But once again his senses are assaulted by that cotton candy smell coming off her. The spandex pants come next revealing her completely to the Dark Knight.

She doesn't shy away from being naked in front of him, it leads him to believe that her supposed life before becoming Harley Quinn was true, she was said to have been a stripper in Medical School, a normal piece of arm candy that his alter ego sees all the time at his parties. But something shocks him, he imagines her bruised, scratched, bitten, cut up like a regular cutting board. But no, she's not, she's perfect. For the most part, there are little bruises on her legs, but they look like something that's come from bumping into things. _"Where are they, there are the bruises." _He mumbles out loud, and she stares at him confused. He expected so much more from Joker, he wanted to see a horror scene under those clothes. But she's not, and it almost vexes him.

He catches faint marks on her breasts, and he's leans in to look and she doesn't flinch. His hand creeps out to touch. Gloved fingertips touching the firm mount of flesh and she still doesn't flinch, but her breathing quickens. He sees it, a dark mark, it was a love mark, a hicky. _"Joker?" _He asks, gathering all sorts of information from her response.

"_Ya --- ya think I'm some kinda two dolla whore?" _She growls at him, and he begins picturing Joker in all his filth touching her, touching Harley, those scarred lips touching all over this once innocent doctor. He can imagine him enjoying it.

He chuckles at her, no she's no whore, he knows that. She's just manipulative, and she uses that body to get what she wants. He doesn't answer her though, instead he commits the first sin.

Everything about him hidden, everything but his jaw and his lips, perfection that he allows the world to see. And now Harley see it, he grabs at her hair forcing her watch him, he doesn't want her to turn away. She bucks and fights against him as he lowers himself, that perfection the world is allowed to see meets the perfection that only Joker see's now.

His lips connect with the soften nipple, suckling he laughs when her nipples harden. She shakes and shivers, her body fighting him now. Her entire being trying to escape him, she screams at him for even trying something like this, and he can't see the wrong in it.

Joker has caused him enough grief, nothing seems to work, Joker wants to take over his city, get his dirty fingers all over something Batman as worked so hard to protect? Then he'll do the same. Oh the look on Joker's face when he realized that Harley's been touched by him. Yes, it'll be perfect.

It's a combination of things, his mind was made fuzzy by Harley's vicious blow from the mallet, his anger from her taunting, and the thought that he's defiling something Joker might actually care about. He's making him so god damn hard that he thought he was going to burst out from his suit.

She was fighting and trying to escape from him as he released that flesh and moved around her. Armor covered arm wrapped around her torso and pinned her close, _"Shh, quit fighting Quinn." _No longer speaking in that deep demonic growl he didn't care. Off came the gauntlets on his wrists, followed by the gloves. The metal fins protecting his forearms where razor sharp, he didn't to cut or hurt Harley. No he'd returned her to Joker, almost exactly has he found her.

Bare fingers now felt what his lips had felt, Harley Quinn was a woman, there was no doubt about it. She was warm, her flesh is on fire, flushed with embarassment. He squeezes hard at her breasts and forces a little cry of pain from her lips. That's what he wanted, leaving them alone for now, he travels down her stomach. She's an almost perfect almost, she had a bit too much fat on her hips, and upclose he could tell just how fake her bleach blonde hair really was. She was also too short for his liking. But this wasn't about him, this was about was about sending a message to Joker. _"Harley you know what I'm going to do don't you?"_

She said nothing, but did put up a fight when she heard heavy armored material fall from his body and to the floor. He grasped onto the blonde's legs and pulled them apart. He figured that he could show her a little mercy holding her weigh in his arms he'd ease the tense in Harley's wrists. She braced herself trying to close her legs on him trying to tighten things up so to speak.

It didn't matter though, Batsy was worked up and Harley was there, with one hard thrust he found pay dirt and she cried out in pain. She begged him to stop, but he didn't. All his frustrations all of his angry directed towards Joker came out. And the person to bare that cross was Harley. He thought about all the lives Joker had taken and slammed viciously into Harley, snarling well he did.

She cried out begging him to stop, _"Joker, he's going to kill you." _Oh but what that little girl didn't know, he wanted Joker to try, he wanted that Mad Dog to break off his leash and make a mistake thats when Batman would have the upperhand that's when Joker would fall and Batman would win.

He'd trust harder, he aimed to hurt Harley. She wasn't prepared enough for this so to speak so he knew she was hurting and that's what he wanted. He wanted her to scream, moving her into just one of his arms he was able to pull at her hair. _"Scream Quinn, scream for Joker, maybe he'll save you."_

She screamed, and raged, that's what he wanted, he wanted he broken her too. That sensation of Quinn's desperation and her womanhood was too much for him. He'd tense, he'd release her from his grasp. With her falling forward he'd grasp onto her hips, white knuckle tight he'd fire off pistol like strikes into the used up Clown Girl. Reaching his climax, he made a split second decision, he came inside of her. It was the right one, she started fighting him, tears falling from the woman's face. This was Joker's temple and he just tore it apart.

He remained inside the weeping Harlequin well he collected his bearings. Smirking, he choose to mock the Joker so to speak, her head captured he turned her to face him. That perfection finding Harley's lips kissing her. Other hand finding a pressure point, squeezing he allowed her to slip into an unconsciousness state.

Pushing her hands off the overhead beam, he returned himself that state of calm that he hadn't been in since he entered the battle with Joker. He fixed the attire that had been pulled and altered on him. One exemption though, he'd remove that cape and draped it over Harley. Scooping her up in the Cape he'd bring her back to the tumbler.

Joker's hideout wasn't hard to find, he'd drop her off at a place he knew Joker would find her, Grin and Bare It. He dropped Quinn right at the back door, she was still sleeping throughout all of this, but just incase he'd had her tied up, arms and legs bound by extra zip line from one of this gadgets, Joker would know._"Whatta want?" _a voice on the other side of the door called out.

_"I've got something that belongs to the Joker. I'm returning it." _And with that he disappeared into the night leaving Harley. All he'd have to do was wait for the aftermath.

It was hours before anyone even bothered to look under the cape to see Batman had returned. Joker finally was the one who decided to enter the storage room, gun raised and ready to fire at whatever it was. Unraveling the cape, out came a bound and gagged Harley Quinn. _"Well." _Joker for once in his life was speechless. Pulling at the gag, he stared at his little dishovelled Clown Girl, _"What---ah happened Pooh." _

She went into the sob story of what she'd been through, Joker the entire time boiling with rage another man would touch his pet? Not just any other man, it was Batman. _"So Puddin', whatta we gonna do to him." _

Joker finally couldn't take it anymore, he started snickering, giggling trying to control himself but he couldn't. He found it down right hilarious, the Batman to prove a point to Joker, actually violated something that people thought he cared about. It was all too perfect. Joker would do nothing, but savor his victory.

* * *

a/n; so i shouldn't be allowed to think about Harley when I'm at work and having a bad day. you also don't let me watch American Psycho. shit like this happens, however I am proud of Joker's reaction, he wouldn't do shit, Batman already did all the heavy lifting so to speak.


End file.
